


Three Casts

by Dash



Series: Recoveries [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Love, Episode: s02e04 Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Original Character(s), Pre-Season/Series 01, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26398555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dash/pseuds/Dash
Summary: A series of minor injuries have impacted the Winchesters’ lives over the years.
Series: Recoveries [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918603
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	1. July, 1991

**Author's Note:**

> Note: While an OC (Dr. Susan Gray) does feature in each story, each incident is really more about John, Dean, and Sam and their relationship over the years.
> 
> As a quick OC summary … Susan Gray is a physician in Franklin, Tennessee and became acquainted with the Hunter Community after the death of her daughters and husband at the hands of a werewolf in 1981. She serves as an official, unofficial doctor for the community at a private clinic. 
> 
> For Dr. Susan Gray’s full history, please see the first story in this series. Her back story is the first small part of that story.

July, 1991

Somewhere on I-40, about halfway between Linville NC and Franklin TN

Reaching over, John swatted Sam’s leg. “Samuel, for the third and better be the last time, turn around, sit down, and fix your seatbelt.” He glanced over, glaring at his son, “If I have to tell you again, you and I will have a long, private discussion once we get Dean taken care of. Do I make myself clear?”

He nodded, twisting back around and settling into the front seat. “Sorry,” he said quietly.

“It’s fine,” he said, glancing over and giving the boy a quick smile. “I just need you to stay in your seat while I’m driving. Plus, Dean’s finally asleep, we don’t want to wake him up. Do we?”

“No, sir,” he said, shaking his head.

Adjusting the rearview mirror slightly, John studied Dean asleep in the backseat, assuring himself the boy was still doing OK. 

“How much longer?” Sam asked quietly 10 minutes later. 

John glanced at him, sighing impatiently before asking. “Why? Do you have to use the bathroom?”

He nodded slightly. “Sorry,” he said quietly a moment later. “I went before we left the motel but that was ages ago.” 

Knowing they still had almost a two hour drive in front of them, John reluctantly nodded. “OK but this is it, Sam, no more stops after this one, so make sure you go.”

Sam nodded, shifting in his seat and using the movement to steal a quick glance in the backseat at his brother.

John smiled slightly, catching his son’s movement as he exited the interstate and headed toward one of the large gas stations nearby.

“Are we there already?” Dean asked in a rough voice as the car was shut off.

Glancing behind him, John shook his head. “No, kiddo. Just a quick stop. Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

Dean shook his head, closing his eyes again.

“If I get a candy bar, do you want half of it?” Sam asked, twisting around and kneeling on the seat to look in the back. “I don’t mind.”

Opening his eyes again, Dean smiled, “That’s OK, Sam but thanks.”

Sam studied him before nodding, “OK but if Dad lets me get something, I’ll get something we both like and you can have your half later.”

“Thanks,” he said, closing his eyes again.

Opening the door, John motioned to his youngest. “Come on, Sammy, let’s go. Dean, we’ll be right back.”

He slid across the seat, exiting the car on the driver’s side and walked into the store and toward the bathrooms. “Can I get a candy bar to split with Dean later? Please?”

John nodded, allowing the rare treat. “OK but only if you don’t take too long.” Pushing open the bathroom door, he was happy to see it was clean and empty. Nodding toward one of the stalls, he said, “Go ahead.” Using one of the urinals mounted on the wall, he tried to keep his focus on the next couple of hours and not on how tired he was. “Wash your hands, please,” he said as Sam came out just as he finished washing his own hands.

“I know,” Sam huffed, frowning slightly. “We’re supposed to sing the happy birthday song twice, according to Ms. Elkins.”

Resisting the urge to point out that Ms. Elkins and her words of wisdom were at least three schools ago, John nodded. “OK but let’s not dawdle, Sam.”

He giggled, “Dawdle, Dad?” Pulling out a paper towel, he said, “I’m not dawdling, I need to dry my hands.”

“You have until the count of three to dry your hands or no candy bar,” he said firmly. “One …”

“Done!” he said quickly, tossing the paper into the trashcan and pushing the door open. 

Closing his eyes for a moment and biting his tongue as he followed the boy out of the bathroom, knowing that taking out his tiredness and lack of patience on his youngest would not help the situation at all. Nodding toward the rack of candy, he said, “Pick one, please, while I get some ice for your brother’s arm.” Getting a large coffee for himself, he put their purchases on the counter and smiled at the large Snickers bar in Sam’s hand, knowing it was Dean’s favorite.

“I’ll wait until Dean’s feeling better to share this with him,” Sam said quietly as they walked out of the store. 

“That would be nice,” he said, smiling at his son as they walked to the side of the building where they had parked the car in the shade and out of the way. Opening the driver’s door again, he motioned inside, “Get in, please, while I help your brother with his arm.”

Sam nodded, crawling in and immediately looking in the backseat. “Dean, I got us a Snickers to split when you feel better, OK?”

Slowing opening his eyes, he nodded, “Thanks Sam. That sounds good.”

“Hey kiddo,” John said, leaning in through the open front door. “Can you sit up for me? I want to put some more ice on your arm.”

Dean nodded, sitting up in the backseat.

Opening the back driver’s side door, John carefully pulled the blanket off Dean and unwrapped his right arm from the pillow being used to cushion it and hold it in place. Carefully pulling off the towel wrapped plastic bag now filled with slushy water, he asked, “How’s it feeling?”

Closing his eyes, he shrugged before saying, “The ice helps. It kind of makes it numb, which is good.”

Pouring out the water and adding the ice he had bought, he tied the bag back up and rewrapped it in the towel before placing it on the spreading bruise and swollen area. “We’ll be there in just a couple hours. Do you need more painkillers?”

Shaking his head, Dean said, “No, thank you. I’m just going to go back to sleep, if that’s OK. Or do you need me for something? I can help keep Sam occupied, if you want him to sit back here with me.”

John smiled, resting his hand on his son’s head for a moment before saying, “No, go ahead and go back to sleep. I’ll make sure Sam doesn’t eat your half of the candy bar.”

He smiled before closing his eyes. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry, Dean,” Sam said. “I wouldn’t do that, even if Dad wasn’t paying attention.”

He laughed softly, “I know, Sam. I totally trust you and expect you to split with me tonight, right?”

“Right,” he said, quickly twisting back around in his seat and sitting back down as their father got back in the car. “My seatbelt is on,” he said quickly, glancing at John.

He smiled, “I see that and appreciate it, Sam. Thank you.” Taking a deep breath and a large sip of coffee, he turned the car back on. “Next stop, Franklin.”

Pulling into the driveway of what appeared to be a large white ranch style house, set back off the road, John carefully parked. Glancing at Sam, he said, “I expect you to be on your best behavior and to quietly read or color or something. We might be a while and I don’t want to have to hear complaints or whining from you that you’re bored. Understand?”

Sam nodded, “Yes, sir.” Kicking at the small backpack on the floorboard, he said, “I’ve got books.”

“Good,” he said, reaching out and giving his son’s shoulder a squeeze. “Thank you.” Glancing in the backseat, he saw that Dean was still asleep, his face pale against the black leather. Quietly opening his door, he motioned with one hand, “Come on, Sam. Grab your bag, please.” The sound of footsteps on the house’s porch made him turn around, smiling.

“John!” a thin middle age woman said with a small smile. “I thought I heard that car of yours pull up.” Smiling more at Sam, she said, “And you’ve grown since last year, Sam. You’re going to be as big as your dad any day now.”

Holding out his hand, John greeted her warmly, “Susan, so good to see you again. Thanks for making the time.”

“Of course,” she said, nodding. “That’s what I’m here for.” Coming down the few steps separating the porch from the parking area in front of the single garage, she asked, “And how’s Dean doing?”

“Asleep,” he said, nodding toward the backseat. “I’ve been keeping ice on the arm like you suggested and gave him some painkillers. We stopped about two hours ago and he said it wasn’t too bad and the ice was helping.”

“Good,” she confirmed, nodding. “Since he’s so drowsy, I’m going to get a wheelchair to get him into the clinic. I don’t want to risk him stumbling and making the break worse or hurting his ribs, especially if they’re already bruised or fractured, too.” Holding out her hand, she motioned to Sam. “Why don’t you come with me and I’ll get you set up someplace comfy to wait before I deal with your brother?”

Nodding, John said, “Go with Dr. Gray, Sam. I’ll stay out here in case Dean wakes up.”

Sam nodded, smiling at the doctor and saying, “OK. I have some books I’m reading, so I can just sit anywhere or do you have TV? I promise, I won’t watch anything bad.”

Susan smiled at him, “No TV, sorry, but I have some comfy chairs and, if your dad says it’s OK, I have some cookies a friend of mine made. I’ll let you have some of those.” Holding the door to the clinic open for him, she smiled at the nurse waiting there. “Ann, this is Sam. His brother Dean is the son of one of our private patients and has a broken arm after taking a nasty fall. Dean’s not feeling great so while I get Sam here situated in one of the reading areas, will you grab a wheelchair and help me get Dean inside?”

Ann nodded, smiling quickly at Sam. “Of course, Dr. Gray. Nice to meet you, Sam.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he echoed, remembering his well-drilled manners. 

“You can sit here,” Susan said, pointing to a recliner by the window. “The bathrooms are right down the hall and there’s a kitchen next to them. You can help yourself to anything in the fridge and the tin of cookies is on the counter but only two, OK? Can’t go ruining your dinner.”

Sam nodded again, smiling, “Thank you.”

She smiled at him, “And we’ll be just down the hall so if you need anything, you can come down to see us.” Touching his head, she said, “And don’t worry, Dean will be just fine. I’ve fixed lots of arms and he’ll have a fun cast and you can draw a funny picture on it to make him smile.”

“Cool,” he said, nodding and sitting down with his backpack in his lap. 

Coming out onto the porch, Susan saw that Dean was now awake and sitting up weakly, with his legs outside the car and his right arm cradled in his lap on a pillow. Ann was talking quietly to him, the wheelchair nearby. 

Looking up as she heard footsteps on the porch, Ann smiled and said to Dean. “Ready to get up?”

He nodded and took a deep breath.

Positioning himself on his son’s right, John said, “On the count of three, OK?”

He nodded and then, on command, stood up with his father gently supporting him around the waist, careful not to jar the injured arm or bruised ribs. Sinking down a moment later in the wheelchair, he closed his eyes and exhaled, shaking slightly. 

Squatting down, Susan smiled at him, patting his leg. “Good to see you again, Dean.”

He smiled at her, “Hi Dr. Gray.”

“Luckily, looks like a simple break,” the doctor said to John, pointing to an x-ray image of the arm. “And, except for some pretty bad bruising on his hip, shoulder, and ribs, I don’t think anything else is broken. He got lucky with the ribs, for sure. That could have caused a punctured lung and all sorts of problems.”

Letting out a breath, John nodded. “Yeah, tell me about it. Watching him fall out of that tree … I swear, Susan, took 10 years off my life.”

She laughed, nodding. “I get it but luckily, even at 12, his bones are strong but flexible and he’ll be OK. The break is near the upper growth plate so it might have caused micro-fractures but shouldn’t cause any long term problems. I’ll keep an eye on it and tell you what to keep an eye out for and we’ll go from there.”

He nodded again, “Great, thank you.”

“Are you comfortable with sticking around for a few days?” she asked, always aware that their lifestyle and demands of the job meant that time wasn’t always on their side. “I’d like to just put a splint on the arm tonight and not cast it for a couple of days, just to make sure there’s no swelling. It’ll also give me time to give Sam a quick head to toe since it’s been a year since I’ve seen him. And… since you’re here … you too. It’s been several years, for you.”

He made a face, sighing. He could hear Mary’s exasperated sigh in his mind and her chiding him for not watching out for his own health. “We might have the time,” he said reluctantly. “But, take care of Sam and Dean first, just in case.”

She laughed softly, “It will take maybe an hour; I’ll have time to do everyone. Promise.” Going back into the exam room, trailed by John, she smiled at Dean sitting up on the gurney in the exam room. “You did a good number on your arm, kid,” she said, resting her hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “But we’re going to be able to save it.”

He laughed lightly, “Good. I always liked you, Dr. Gray.”

Patting his shoulder again, she said, “We’re going to split it for tonight and tomorrow just to make sure there’s no swelling. How’s the pain?”

He shrugged and winced as the movement jarred his bruises and arm. “OK,” he said after a moment. “I’m fine.”

She watched him and shook her head, “I’m going to get you something for the pain, help make sure you rest easily tonight and tomorrow, at least.” Glancing at John, she said, “Why don’t you plan on staying in the guest cottage at my house. This way I can check on Dean’s arm later tonight and tomorrow, save you the drive back here.”

John shook his head, “We don’t want to impose. I’m sure there’s a nice enough motel we can stay at.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Like I said, having you all nearby will actually save me time, too.” She smiled at him and shrugged, “But it’s up to you. The Falls Hotel is also about 5 miles away and is popular with hunters. I’m going to go get that split, so just think about it.” The last decade of helping the hunter community had taught her how to make suggestions, propose a solution to a problem, and then to quickly back off and let the extremely independent and private group of people make their own decisions. 

Watching her walk out, Dean glanced over at his father. “I’m really sorry, Dad,” he said quietly.

He frowned at his son, shaking his head, “I know, Dean but how many times have I told you to be careful? When you’re up in a tree like that, I’m counting on you to provide cover and be careful, not screw around and end up hurt.”

“I wasn’t screwing around,” he said, shaking his head. “I was trying to get a better position to see both the trail head where you were and the other trail and I thought that if I moved a bit higher and …” He shrugged again, wincing at the movement. 

Holding up his hands, John shook his head, “We’ll talk about it later. Right now, just relax and don’t move too much. We don’t need you hurting yourself more. The arm is going to put you out of commission long enough.”

“Yes, sir,” he said quietly. Closing his eyes, he took a small breath and concentrated on not crying as he leaned his head back against the back of the gurney he was sitting on.

Inwardly cursing himself and his lack of patience, John reached out and gently put a hand on his son’s bare foot and gave it a small squeeze. “It’s OK, kid,” he said quietly. “All that really matters is that you’re OK.” Giving the foot a gentle shake, he laughed softly, “Your old man’s heart almost stopped when you came crashing through the branches like that and then … thud. If I didn’t already know you had a hard head, the dent you left in the ground would have proven it for sure.” He smiled as Dean opened his eyes and smiled at him, “Let’s not do that again, OK?”

“Yes, sir,” he said again and took another slightly shuddering breath.

“OK, let’s get this splinted up,” Susan said calming, coming back into the exam room carrying a complicated looking black brace. “It’s Tuesday now, so, if it’s OK with your schedule, John, why don’t we plan to cast this Thursday, late afternoon? You could leave on Friday or Saturday, if you have to. If you could stay around a couple of weeks though, it would be better. Long car rides are going to be pretty miserable with the bruising and a cast takes some getting use to.” Not looking at him, she focused her attention on Dean, saying, “OK … let’s get you sitting up so I can get your arm in the right position.”

John sighed, shaking his head slightly as he said, “A couple of weeks now?”

“It’s OK, Dad,” Dean said firmly. “We don’t even have to stay tonight. Why don’t we just cast it tonight so we can get back to Linville tomorrow and finish the job tomorrow night. We still have time and another few nights for the moon to be right. Thursday night is just the new moon, so Friday night will work too, if we miss again tomorrow night.”

Biting her tongue to prevent herself from pointing out the horribleness of that idea, Susan focused on the splint’s straps. When the older man didn’t answer, she forced herself to look over at him and ask, “What do you want to do, John? I can cast it tonight, if you insist. I’ll give you a list of what to watch for in case Dean’s arm swells and some tips on how to prevent that.” Medically speaking, she knew that a cast wasn’t ideal but at the same time wasn’t overly dangerous. The break wasn’t large and the swelling so far had been minimal. 

Closing his eyes briefly, John cursed softly and shook his head. “No, I guess we better stick around for a week or so and make sure this doesn’t cause more problems and actually starts to heal properly. It’s better long term and honestly, Dean, you’re not going to be much good on a hunt any time soon and might even cause more harm.” He sighed again, “If you don’t need me, I’ll go and make some calls and see if someone else can get out there and finish the job for us.”

“Yes, sir,” he said quietly. “I’m OK, I’m good, you can go make your calls.”

He nodded briskly and turned his attention to the doctor. “Since we’ll be here a week or so, I think we’ll stay at that motel you recommended. What was the name again? I might as well call them and make sure there’s room.”

“The Falls,” she said evenly, watching the boy out of the corner of her eye.

He nodded and gave his son a small smile. Reaching out, he patted the boy’s leg and said, “Holler if you need me, otherwise, I’ll be making phone calls and get stuff set up. Just think, cable for you and Sam to enjoy and maybe a pool, if you stay in the shallow end. We’ll put a bag over your arm or something, to keep it dry. Or we’ll catch up on some movies you’ve been wanting to see, like the new Terminator movie.”

Dean nodded, “I’m OK, it doesn’t hurt at all really.” His voice was rough and he swallowed several times, trying to clear his voice. 

John nodded, “Good. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Watching him walk out of the exam room, Susan smiled at Dean as she walked over and closed the door behind the older man. “Let me just close this so we’re not bothered by your father’s phone calls.” Sitting down on the edge of the gurney next to him instead of the chair, she smiled and held out her arms slightly, “You look like you could use a hug.” The words, even after 10 years, still tugged at her heart as she instantly remembered saying them to her twin daughters multiple times during their too short lives.

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head even as he leaned forward into her embrace. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You’re OK,” she said softly as she felt him start to cry. “It’s been a long, crappy day and I don’t believe for one second that you’re not hurting and you’re tired and disappointed. Just an all-around shitty day.”

“Everything hurts,” he said quietly. “And he’s so mad at me, so disappointed.”

She sighed softly, holding him gently. “I’ll get you something for the pain in just a minute and I’ll make sure you have something any time you need it and I’ll check on you every day. And, I promise, he’s not mad at you, just the situation. He’s very happy you’re OK.”

He nodded, resting his head against her shoulder. “I hope so.”

“I know so, sweetie,” she said softly, rocking him slightly as he continued to cry. “Trust me, I’m a doctor and we’re not allowed to lie.”


	2. January, 2002

January, 2002

Franklin TN

Waking immediately, years of practice and instinct kicking in, Dr. Susan Gray answered the phone on the third ring with a crisp, “Doctor Gray.” She glanced at the bedside clock automatically, noting that it was just after 11:00 pm.

“Hey Doc, it’s Dean Winchester. I hope I didn’t wake you. It’s late, I know, but I thought just shy of too late.” 

She smiled at the sound of his voice, “It’s fine, Dean. What can I help you with?”

“I think I may have broken my hand,” he said evenly. “I … well … I heard a popping, cracking noise and not long after that, it started to swell and now I’m having trouble moving it and …”

“Say no more, young man,” she said, laughing softly as she interrupted him. “I fully agree with your self-diagnoses of a broken hand. Where are you?”

He laughed softly and said, “Ummm, kind of sitting in my car at your clinic.”

Despite the late hour and absurdity of the statement, she laughed. “Well, at least you’re close by and I don’t have to worry about you driving with a broken hand.”

Dean laughed, “Yeah, the three hours coming up from Alabama was long enough. I thought about trying to get to a motel but honestly, I figured I’d sleep just as well in your parking lot if you weren’t around tonight. I have a blanket and got some ice and have more in the cooler and that’s helping.”

Too use to the hunter community to do more than smile at the matter of factness of how best to deal with a broken hand and the realities of sleeping in a car, even in winter, she just smiled. “Well, stay there and don’t go off roaming. Have you had dinner tonight?”

“Yes, some coffee and a sandwich about two hours ago, when I stopped and got ice and filled up the car.”

“OK, I’ll be there within the half hour,” she said, mentally running through her schedule for tomorrow and how early she actually needed to be at her regular office for her normal patients. 

“Thanks, Doc,” he said. “I’ll wait right here for you.”

Through the phone, she could hear the tiredness in his voice and the slight relief that he could soon relax, stop moving, and someone else would take over for a bit. He hadn’t mentioned John and that absence weighed on her as she quickly got dressed. She hadn’t heard that anything had happened to the oldest Winchester but, if it was recent, she might just not have heard the news yet. Opening her refrigerator 15 minutes later, she studied the contents and quickly pulled out the left over spaghetti and meatballs that she was planning for lunch the next day. 

Dean carefully got out of the car at the sound of her car, waving slightly with his right hand, his left arm cradled against his chest in a make-shift sling. He smiled as she got out, saying, “Thanks again, Doc. I appreciate it.”

Shaking her head slightly, she walked over and carefully hugged him. “Like I could let you sit out in the car in January, kid. Are you crazy?” 

He followed her up the stairs onto the porch, saying, “Well, the cold is making my hand feel better and the ice isn’t melting that fast.”

Glancing behind her as she quickly unlocked the door, she shot him a hard glare before keying off the alarm system and turning on the lights. “Come on,” she said firmly. Leading the way toward one of the exam rooms, she dropped her insulated lunch bag on the counter before saying, “Let’s take a look at this hand and I brought you some real food, too.”

He smiled tiredly at her, “Thanks!”

Carefully helping him off with the sling and then coat and shirts, leaving him in just a short sleeve t-shirt, she motioned toward the table in the exam room. “Go ahead and sit down for me. You’re a bit pale and I want to see what’s going on.”

“Just tired, I think,” he said, sitting down on the bed and trying hard not to sigh or yawn and failing. “Seriously, Doc, I’m fine.”

Studying him for a moment and ignoring his protests, she said, walking over and putting a hand on his shoulder, “Do me a favor, Dean, go ahead and lay back.” Extending the end of the table, she put his feet up so he was laying almost flat, his head elevated slightly by the table and a pillow she brought him. Resting her fingers on his wrist, she said, “Just close your eyes and relax for me, I’m just checking your pulse and want to get your blood pressure.”

“Still beating?” he asked several minutes later as she undid the blood pressure cuff from his arm. Yawning again, he closed his eyes for a long beat, opening them again as he felt a blanket being spread out.

“Still beating,” Susan confirmed, “but your blood pressure is a bit lower than I like. It’s not uncommon, mainly your body’s reaction to the stress of breaking your hand, maybe a bit of shock, and probably not eating right, drinking enough, and the adrenaline finally wearing off.

He nodded slightly, “You’re the doctor, I trust you.”

Patting his shoulder again, she said, “Just close your eyes again for me and let me look at that hand. I’m not going to do anything that hurts too much.” Going around to the other side of the table, she carefully pulled his left arm out from under the blanket and laid it on his chest. Gently massaging it and giving him quiet instructions to make a fist and relax and judging his reactions as she carefully prodded various areas, she sighed several minutes later before saying, “Yep, I’d say it’s broken for sure. I’ll do a quick x-ray just to make sure but I think you have what we call a classic brawler’s fracture.”

Opening his eyes again, he chuckled. “Seriously? Brawler? That’s what it’s called?”

“Some people call it a boxer’s fracture but most boxers are smart enough not to break some of the little bones in their fist when they fight,” she said, tucking his arm back under the blanket. “And really, wouldn’t you say that you’re more a brawler then a boxer?”

He laughed, “And I here I was always thinking I was more a lover then a fighter!”

Patting his shoulder again, she said, “Just relax, Romeo, I’m going to get you something to take the edge off the pain I’m sure you’re feeling. Then you can close your eyes for me and relax for a bit.” Quietly writing in his chart, she watched him drift off to into a light sleep. She glanced at the clock, mentally noting the time, quickly calculating a quick hour long nap would do him a world of good.

“So how long is this going to be on?” Dean asked, yawning as he watched her wrap the first layer of cast around the stocking and padding currently covering half of his lower arm and last two fingers. Taking the last bite of spaghetti, he said, “And thanks again for dinner. It was great; I didn’t realize how hungry I was until you brought it in for me.”

Glancing up, she smiled, “I’m glad you liked it and, as for the cast, let’s say six weeks to be safe. The way you use your hands, I’d rather not rush the healing process.”

He sighed, shifting in his seat. 

Susan laughed softly, “Don’t be trying any dramatic sighs on me, kid. They don’t work on me any more than your brother’s puppy dog eyes.” Standing up, she patted his shoulder, “Speaking of your brother, how’s he getting on at Stanford?”

“Good,” he said, lying easily. “We were going to try to get together over the Christmas break but he ended up picking up extra hours at his job and Dad and I were stuck in a case in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania and it just didn’t work out.” Shrugging he said, “Maybe Spring Break or for sure next time we’re in California.” He glanced at her, silently gauging if she had bought the lie. Swallowing, he tried to think of something else to say that would get the topic off Sam.

“Don’t move,” she said, yawning and willing herself not to look at the time. She had allowed Dean to sleep an hour in the exam room but it was now after 1:30 and even her stamina was starting to fail. “I’m not surprised he’s doing so well. I have to admit, I was a little surprised when he asked me last summer to send his immunization records there but I knew he could handle the work.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a brief flash of pain at the mention of Sam’s absence and felt a subtle tension in his arm and knew she had unwittingly hit a sore topic. “How did this happen, anyway?” she asked, casually changing the subject. “I don’t think you said.”

Taking a deep breath, he shifted again and gave a fake, casual laugh, “Would you believe fighting a … creature thing that’s like a big dog and its owner. It’s called an inugami, from Japan. The owner attacked me, I punched him, several times before I could finally cut off the inugami’s head.”

“A what?” she asked, looking up from where she was dipping the roll of second layer of cast material in water. “In Alabama?”

He nodded, “Yeah, an inugami. It’s a … family spirit, sort of, and is said to bring the family who owns it good luck and helps them become successful. A new Honda plant just opened in Alabama and one of the mid-level executives brought this thing with him and it was helping him move up the ladder, the bloody and painful way.” Shifting again, he added, “Owning one of these spirits also makes the person more than a bit unstable, too.”

She shook her head, sitting down on the stool next to him. “Well, have to say that’s a new one for me. Have you ever tackled one before?”

“No, I didn’t have a clue what it was or how to deal with it. Bobby Singer did some research and told me. Do you know him?”

Carefully wrapping the wet material around his hand and arm, she nodded, “Sort of. He and I have spoken on the phone and email numerous times but I’ve never met him in person. He’s in South Dakota, right?”

He nodded, yawning again. “Yeah, Sioux Falls.”

She grinned, “No yawning or you’ll start me yawning and I only have a few minutes to get out all the wrinkles and creases in this thing.” Smoothing out the outer material, she trimmed away the excess and smoothed it again before checking the fit. “How’s that feel?”

He shrugged, “Fine, I guess.”

Standing up, she patted his shoulder before picking up the empty food container to carry it back to the kitchen. “OK, just sit there and relax while it sets. I’m going to rinse this out and get you something to drink and some pain pills and we’ll head home.” 

“Oh, I’m good,” he said easily, shaking his head. “I’ll just head out or, if it’s OK with you, maybe just sleep in the car in your …” His voice trailed off as he caught her gaze. “Or maybe not …”

“For sure not,” she said firmly. “Either my guest room or my guest cottage but you need to hang around at least a couple of days to make sure the cast sets and your hand doesn’t swell and cause problems. There’s no way I’m letting you loose on your own. You said John’s up in Michigan, right?” When he reluctantly nodded in her direction, she nodded back, “And that’s why it’s either my guest room or the cottage.”

“OK,” he said, smiling slightly as she left. Forcing himself not to close his eyes, he stood up and began to carefully and awkwardly put his shirt back on over his t-shirt. Grimacing as the shirt sleeve caught on his newly set fingers, he slowly pulled it on before sitting back down on the exam table, gritting his teeth at the pain in his arm seemed to throb straight to his brain. 

Coming back into the room a moment later, Susan gently patted his shoulder. “Deep breaths for me, Dean. I’ve got some more painkillers for you and am going to give you one right now and the other one when we get back to my place. I don’t want you falling sleep in the car, OK?” Holding out a glass of water and a pill, she smiled as he gratefully took it. “Wait here, let’s just let that start working on the pain for a few minutes while I shut everything down and I’ll help you to the car.”

He nodded slowly, “Thanks, Doc. I appreciate it.”

“Of course, sweetie, it’s what I’m here for,” she said evenly, squeezing his good hand. “Be right back.”

Glancing at her as she pulled away from the clinic 20 minutes later, his duffle bag now in her backseat, he said, “I really appreciate you giving me a place to crash for the night.”

Not taking her eyes off the road, she smiled, “Nights, plural, Dean. I really want you to stay a few days with me. You’ll be surprised how sore and tired you are and I don’t feel comfortable with you on your own, without someone to help and keep an eye on you.” Looking at him, she smiled quickly, “I had to take an oath, you know and that includes not letting stubborn young hunters over-estimate their own healing powers and abilities to handle everything.” Silently wondering about contacting John, she thought back to their past visits and interactions and decided not to broach the topic of the older Winchester for a couple of days.

He laughed softly, “Yeah, I’d like to see that worked into the Hippocratic Oath and explained.” Shifting in his seat, he sighed, “I get it and appreciate it, thank you, even if I’m not that young.”

“Oh please,” she said, shaking her head. “I think your chart said you were born in 1979, so that makes you 22. You’re basically a baby compared to an old woman like me.”

“I’m almost 23!” he protested. 

“How close is almost?” she asked, pulling into her driveway, as always, grateful the clinic was less than two miles from home.

“Actually, two days,” he said quietly, shrugging slightly. “Thursday.”

Coming around the side of the car, she helped him stand up and walk into the house. “Then we’ll have to celebrate,” she said evenly. “Maybe I can talk to your father too and see what his schedule is like and it will be nice to hear how Sam’s doing at school when he calls.”

“Yeah,” he said, forcing himself to sound enthusiastic at the idea and allowing her to guide him down the hall and into the guest room with its own connecting bathroom. Sinking down on the bed, he sighed slightly.

Bending down, she quickly and matter of factly took off his boots before standing back up and motioning with her hands. “Let’s go, kid, I’m going to show you how to wrap your cast for a shower, help you get at least partially undressed and then into bed.”

“Dr. Gray, seriously, I’ve got this,” he said, blushing slightly and shaking his head. 

She nodded, “Let’s see what you can do on your own, while I go get a trash bag for your arm, kid.” Grinning, she added, “And don’t worry, it’s not like I haven’t seen everything before.”

He laughed, “I know but still!” Watching her walk out of the bedroom, he sat down and began to struggle with his jeans, finally getting them off. Sinking down on the bed, he clinched his teeth as an almost crushing wave of pain and sudden sadness hit him. Desperately wishing for Sam, he couldn’t help but think how much better this horrible situation would have been with his brother by his side. 

Opening the door to her house the next evening, Susan immediately knew that Dean was gone by the all too familiar stillness in the air. A note sat propped on the counter, confirming the fact. Shaking her head slightly, she read, “Thanks again, Doc! Dad arranged for some friends of his to come pick me up and take me to him up in Michigan. They helped me get the car from the clinic and I really appreciate your hospitality. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to say bye in person but we’ll catch up when I see you next month to get rid of this cast. Thanks again, D.”

An hour away, in a motel near the Tennessee Kentucky border, Dean stared at the pizza he had just microwaved, trying to summon the energy to eat. Instead, pushing the food aside, he quickly downed two pain pills, chased with a long sip from his beer and went to bed. Just before he fell asleep, he noticed his phone was still charging by the TV. Not bothering to get up and retrieve it, knowing no one was calling, he rolled over carefully and tried to sleep.


	3. August 2006

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starts with Sam & Dean's conversation along the side of the road at the end of 2.04 Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things. Thanks to supernaturalwiki.com for their transcript of the conversation. I used that transcript, with a few small, stylistic modifications such as punctuation, pauses, and Sam's reactions, to begin this final chapter.
> 
> The idea for Dr. Susan Gray actually began with Sam's cast in the following episodes. That was clearly something they weren't fixing on their own in a hotel bathroom ... 
> 
> Thanks and I hope you enjoy!

August, 2006

Near the Shawnee National Forest on I-24, between Greenville IL and Franklin TN

“Sam, you and Dad... you're the most important people in my life,” he said softly, shaking his head. “And now … I never should've come back, Sam. It wasn't natural.”

Sam looked at him, unsure what to say or how to help.

“And now, look what's come of it. I was dead and I should have stayed dead. You wanted to know how I was feeling? Well, that's it.” Looking at his brother for a moment before breaking eye contact again, he asked, “So, tell me, what could you possibly say to make that all right?”

He swallowed, shaking his head slightly before saying in a rough voice, “That I’m happy that you’re not dead. That, if what you’re saying is true, if Dad did trade his life and the stupid colt for yours, then I’m thankful he made that trade because I … I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

Dean snorted slightly, shaking his head, “Be back enjoying Stanford? Trying to pick up your life, maybe, starting to rebuild and pick up some threads of normalcy?”

“Yeah, right,” he said, shaking his head again. In a firmer voice, he said, “Those days are long gone, dude. I never fit in there before and certainly wouldn’t now. This is my life and I’m exactly where I want to be, doing what I want to be doing, and if you were dead …” His voice trailed off and he shook his head again, remembering the long hours in the hospital weeks before, “Before, after the accident, when you were … hurt but still around, sort of, that was bad enough. Now … I just … can’t, not now, not … just no.” Turning slightly and looking Dean dead on, he said, “You told me last year that you didn’t want to do the job alone anymore, you could but you don’t want to. I feel the same way, without you, without this … I don’t want to do it.”

Glancing over at him, he took several shuddering breaths and pushed off from the car’s hood. “Let’s go, we need to get your arm looked at and we’re still a good three hours from Franklin and Dr. Gray.”

“There’s no rush,” Sam said, not moving from his own position leaning against the car’s hood. “Let’s talk about this.”

Shooting his brother a look, he shook his head, “Later. Right now, we have more important things to deal with.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sam said firmly.

“We’re still not talking about it,” Dean said firmly, eyes fixed on the road in front them as he heard Sam clear his throat. “When I said later, I was thinking … later, not in an hour.”

Starting to hold up his hands before wincing. Groaning softly, and letting his right hand carefully drop back to his lap, Sam said, “Not saying anything.”

He nodded toward his brother’s hand, “How’s that feel?”

Shrugging, he said, “I don’t know … hurts but nothing I can’t manage.” 

“There’s an exit coming up so we’ll stop and get some ice, that should help until we get to Franklin,” he said firmly. 

“Fine,” Sam said, shrugging again and unwilling to get into a fight about the actual need for ice. 

“Fine.”

Leaning his head back against the seat, he took several slow breaths, hoping the throbbing pain in his hand would subside. He swallowed, shifting and grimaced again as he accidently bumped his elbow, which jarred his hand.

“I saw that,” Dean said evenly, not taking his eyes off the road.

Despite the situation, Sam laughed softly, shaking his head and shifting in his seat again. “Ice will probably feel good,” he conceded a moment later.

Glancing at him, he nodded and said, “Probably.” 

“That’s what I just said,” Sam said, smiling and closing his eyes again.

“Stay in the car,” Dean ordered as he pulled into the gas station 15 minutes later, parking at the edge of the lot. “Do you want anything besides ice?”

“I can go in,” he said, straightening up.

Dean shook his head, “No, just stay in the car, Sammy. I swear, let me handle this and you just sit there and relax. Watching you move and wince constantly is painful.” Not waiting for an answer, he got out and stalked across the lot and into the store.

Watching him disappear, Sam sighed and leaned his head back against the seat, trying to block out the throbbing pain in his hand and process his brother’s words and fears. He wasn’t an idiot, he had put two and two together, had been able to follow the possible, probable, link between their dad’s death, the disappearance of the colt, and Dean’s almost miraculous recovery. He knew that his brother had also made the connection, had seen it on his face while they watched John’s body burn in the pyre and could see it haunting him in the weeks afterwards. The knowledge was something they would have to get past because, as he had told his brother, if one of them had to die, he would pick their father every time. He also was confident that their father would make the same choice every time. As John had explained, he loved them both, they were his children and that meant, for all his faults as a father, that he would do anything to protect them, without hesitation. Shifting in his seat, he also knew Dean would not easily accept that explanation. With a sigh, he carefully got out of the car and awkwardly began digging into his duffle bag in the back seat, looking for the painkillers. 

“What do you need, Sam?” Dean asked, coming back to the car carrying a shopping bag. “I really wish you would have just waited; you’re going to do some real damage to that hand if you’re not careful.” Putting the bag on the top of the car, he nudged his brother back toward the passenger seat. “Here, just sit down please and tell me what you need.”

“The painkillers,” he admitted. 

He nodded, “OK, we can do that.” Digging in his brother’s bag, he found the bottle and quickly shook two out in his hand before holding them out. “Let’s not OD on these, I’m sure Dr. Gray will have some good stuff for you in a few hours.”

Sam nodded, dry swallowing them and chasing it with water from a bottle next to him. Twisting slightly, he leaned back against the car seat with a sigh and grimace.

Grabbing a spare towel from some long ago motel they kept in the car for emergencies, Dean quickly wrapped the bag of ice and, squatting down next to the passenger seat, carefully laid it on his brother’s wrist and hand. “Here, hold this for a minute,” he said. A moment later, he laid his folded up coat on Sam’s lap, carefully adjusting the arm and the coat to bundle it together, holding it snuggly. “This should help, if you don’t move around too much and jostle stuff around.”

Sam laughed, shifting slightly as his brother shut the passenger door. He glanced over as Dean slid inside, asking, “Did you honestly just say jostle?”

“Shut up, it’s a word!” he fired back, smiling as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Just remember, you’ve got lose bones in that hand, no bumping, no moving, no jostling.” He glanced over and smiled wider before adding, “Your aim is bad enough, can’t imagine what you’d do with a gimp hand.”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to say gimp anymore,” he said, smiling and shaking his head. 

Dean laughed, “When I’m talking about you and only you, I can say it.”

He laughed, “Jerk, making fun of the injured.”

Coming down the porch steps, Dr. Susan Gray smiled at them both. “So good to see you boys again.” Pulling Dean into a quick hug, she studied his face for a moment, gently touching the faint scar on his forehead, “This looks like it hurt.”

He nodded, “Yeah, it did but it’s better now.”

“The car accident that got John?” When he nodded she gave him another quick hug, saying softly, “I was really sorry to hear about that.”

Dean nodded, saying, “Thanks, we got your message and appreciated it.” Glancing over as he heard the passenger door open and a quick intake of breath, he barked, “Dammit, Sammy! I told you to just wait and I was coming to help!”

“I’ve got it,” he snapped back, awkwardly getting out of the car and shrugging off his brother’s help. “Hey Dr. Gray. How are you?”

Coming around the car and meeting him halfway, she held him in place for a moment, smiling slightly as she studied him before giving him a gentle hug. “I think that’s my question, kid. How are you feeling? How’s the pain?”

“It’s OK,” he said.

“He’s in a lot of pain,” Dean said at the same time, exchanging glares with him. “Don’t even, you haven’t been sitting next to you for the last hour listening to half gasps with every minor bump and you’re pale and sweaty.”

“I’m fine,” he shot back before turning back to the doctor. “Yeah, it’s not comfortable but it’s not that bad, either, Dr. Gray, thank you.”

Not letting go of his good arm, she smiled, “Good, so come with me and let’s see what’s going on.” Long use to injured hunters, she had perfected a way to walk with them that both supported and guided them but never made them feel babied or forced. “I don’t think we’ll have to amputate,” she said evenly as they walked across the large parking pad and in front of the three car garage.

Sam laughed, “Good, thank you.” Seeing his brother right behind them, he said, “Dean, you may want to grab that bag of ice, I left it sitting on your coat and it’s going to melt all over the seats.”

Shooting his brother an exasperated look, he turned around and headed back to the car.

“You’ve expanded the place,” he said as they walked into the clinic together. “It looks nice.”

Susan smiled at him, carefully taking him down one of the corridors and into a treatment room. “Yeah, finished up about four years ago now. We did it slowly over a year, didn’t want to cause too much attention with lots of construction or noise for the neighbors to wonder about.” 

He nodded, “It’s really nice and I, we, appreciate you seeing me on such short notice.”

“The joys of Sunday and the Labor Day holiday,” she said, smiling and helping him take his white over shirt off and sit down on the exam table. “Hunters rarely take holidays or days off, so why should I?” Studying him closely, she said, “I’m going to raise the head of the table a bit, why don’t you lay back. Dean’s right, you’re a little shaky looking and clearly in pain.”

Nodding his head, he leaned back, wincing as his elbow bumped against the back of the table as he tried to get comfortable. “Yeah,” he said quietly, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

“Good, just relax for me, Sam,” she said quietly. Pulling off his shoes, she spread a blanket over him. “Nice and warm, it should feel good.” Patting his shoulder, she said, “Be right back, sweetie, I’m going to get some painkillers for you and then take a look at what’s going on.”

Nodding again, he said, “Yeah.” Through the open door, he heard his brother’s voice and low laugh a moment later. Forcing his eyes open at the sound of footsteps coming into the room, he smiled slightly at Dean. “Hey,” he said, shifting slightly and wincing again.

He rolled his eyes, saying, “Would you just stop moving, Sammy? Moving causes pain, pain is bad, therefore …” Motioning with his hand, he said after a moment, “Therefore, moving is bad.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head, “That’s known as a causal fallacy, man, and not provable or true.”

“I don’t care what it’s call, it’s true. You move, you wince, so stop moving,” he ordered firmly, shaking his head. Tapping his brother’s foot under the blanket, he added, “Or I’ll tell Dr. Gray we don’t have time to be messing around and got to hit the road and she should just lob it off and we’ll get out of here.”

Coming back into the room and hearing the tail end of the conversation, Susan snorted, “And when did you get your medical license, kid?” Moving to Sam’s right, she said, “Don’t worry, I’m not thinking amputation just yet.” She nodded toward the other man, saying, “I have coffee and some cookies in the kitchen, feel free to help yourself.”

Dean nodded before asking, “Want some water, Sam?”

He nodded, “Thanks.”

Patting his brother’s shoulder, he said, “Be right back.”

Susan watched him leave the room before half shutting the door behind him. Turning her attention back to Sam, she lowered her voice as she moved to closer to the table. “It’s 100% your choice if you want him in here or not, Sam. I can gently chase him out or he can stay, but it’s up to you. And, of course, if you want some privacy then I’ll be the bad guy and you can even protest if you want, won’t hurt my feelings.” Smiling at him, she added, “You’re in charge here.” When he didn’t answer, she patted his arm and said, “Think about it and just let me know. In the meantime, I’m going to give you some mild local anesthesia for your hand to take the edge off while we x-ray it and see what’s going on.”

Nodding, he leaned his head back against the table and took a shaky breath. “Thanks, it’s … throbbing for sure.” Glancing at the half closed door, he added, “And Dean’s welcome in here. He worries and now, with Dad … me getting hurt and everything.” His voice trailed off for a moment as he sighed softly before saying, “It’s been a rough couple of months.”

“I know, sweetie,” she said, “and I’m so sorry about your dad. John was a great hunter and he loved you both so much.”

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing before closing his eyes again.”

“Let’s get that pain taken care of,” she said quietly. “Just a small shot which won’t hurt after the first stick, promise.”

Sam nodded again, “OK.”

Glancing at his brother who appeared to be lightly dozing, Dean smiled and stepped closer to Dr. Gray who was starting to pull the supplies for the cast. He nodded toward the rolls of colored cast wraps and said quietly, “How much would it cost me to convince you to use that hot pink instead of the white?”

She chuckled softly, shaking her head, “A whole lot more than you have, Dean, and the only reason I even have those colors is because they came as samples. I don’t get much call for anything besides white, black, or dark green.”

Stepping back to Sam’s side, Dean smiled and said gently, “Sammy, are you awake? Do you want hot pink for your cast or purple?”

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking at his brother before saying, “What?”

Dean grinned, nodding toward his hand resting on a small table at his side, “Your cast, the outer wrap. What color? Dr. Gray has hot pink and purple. Which do you want?”

Looking at him for a moment, he sat up slightly, wincing.

Putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder, Dean said, “No, just relax. You don’t need to see anything. Just tell me … pink or purple?”

“She doesn’t have … like … white?” he asked, confused. “Just like a cast?”

Coming over, Susan glared at Dean for a moment before nodding at Sam, “Yes, Sam, ignore your brother. I’m planning just white, don’t worry.” Hitting Dean gently on the shoulder she shook her head, “Do not harass your brother or I’ll make you sorry, kid. And don’t forget, you’re due for a physical anyway, it’s been several years.” She smiled at him, taking the edge off her words, before turning her attention back to Sam. “Let’s go ahead and sit you up and we’ll get started.”

“You missed your chance, Sam,” Dean said, helping his brother sit up and carefully adjust his arm and hand so it could be wrapped. “I bet all the girls would love to see you with a pretty purple cast.”

“Bite me,” he said before laughing softly and shaking his head as he woke up. “And remind me to make sure you don’t get your hands on any markers or stickers.”

Dean laughed, nodding, “Good luck with that!”

“Do you boys like chili?” Susan asked, glancing behind her as she led them across her yard to a small guest cottage two hours later carrying one of their duffle bags. 

“Oh, you don’t have to cook for us,” Dean protested, shaking his head. “We can just order pizza or something. If we’re going to stay here for a few days, I need to do a grocery run anyway.”

She shook her head, “Nonsense, Dean. I’m happy to feed you and I have some corn muffins in the freezer that need to come out anyway. You’ll be back on the road by the end of the week, the least I can do is make sure you are well fed.” 

“Thanks,” he said, glancing at his brother who was silently walking next to him. He was carrying their other duffle bag and had his other hand lightly holding Sam’s upper arm, helping to steady him across the slightly uneven grass. “Chili sounds great.”

Nodding, she said, “Good.” Stepping into the cottage, she flipped on the lights and moved to the thermostat, turning on the air conditioning, before moving to the bedroom and putting one of the duffle bags on one of the two beds in there. Coming back into the main room, she said, nodding in the various directions, “Bedroom, with two beds so if you don’t mind sharing a room, that might be the most comfortable. There’s also a set of bunkbeds in the back, near the laundry room and back door. The bathroom is right over there, in the hall. And of course, this is the kitchen, eating area and living room.” 

Dean smiled, “This is great, thanks! We don’t mind sharing, do it all the time in motels.”

She nodded, “That’s what I figured and what most hunters do.” Eyeing Sam, she said, “Do you need help with getting him to bed? The pain pills have certainly kicked in.”

Glancing at his brother, he shook his head, “No, I’ve got it but thanks. What time should we come to dinner?”

“How about 7:00?” she asked. “That’s about four hours and should be a good nap for him.”

He nodded and watched her let herself out before walking Sam into the bedroom. “Nap time, Sammy,” he said softly, pushing his brother gently toward one of the beds. Still holding his arm, he tugged down the blankets with the other hand. 

Sitting down, Sam nodded, blinking as he said faintly, “Yeah, for sure. Dr. Gray has good drugs, nothing hurts any more. It’s all floaty.”

Dean grinned, “I can see that, you certainly look stoned.” Squatting down, he tugged off his brother’s shoes before standing back up and saying, “Come on, Sam. Lay back and chill for a while.”

“Yeah,” he said again before sighing and awkwardly pulling his legs up and laying down on the bed.

Grabbing one of the pillows from the other bed, he laid it on his brother’s chest and carefully positioned the cast hand on top. “Here, keep it up slightly and that should help with the throbbing and help keep the swelling down,” he said. Using another pillow, he arranged it to help keep the arm in place before pulling up the blankets. “Just sleep for a bit and things will be better when you wake up.”

Eyes already closed, Sam nodded, “Yeah.” He forced his eyes open for a second and smiled slightly, “Thanks, Dean, appreciate it.” Grabbing his brother’s hand, he met his eyes for a moment before saying, “You’re the best, you’re worth whatever Dad did, believe me.”

Resting his hand on his brother’s head for a moment, he said, “Someone’s got to watch out for you, dude.”

“And I know I can always trust you to be there,” Sam replied before falling asleep.

Sitting down on his own bed, silently watching his brother sleep and remembering the long, painful weeks four years ago when he broke his own hand, he smiled slightly. “Always,” he whispered. 

The end


End file.
